Arrangement for Revenge: An Ed Ramsey Mystery

By Norm Karin

Edwin Ramsey, a jazz guitarist and music professor at a small college, has his life turned upside down when his department chairman is found with his throat slashed.

 

Ed becomes embroiled in the murder when Allison Clark, the victim's oboe student, discovers the body and rushes into Ed's studio for help. To complicate things further, Ed's friend and faculty colleague becomes the prime suspect in the killing.

 

Questions abound as the local sheriff tries to sift through the puzzling clues. What is the motive for the crime? Is the enigmatic Miss Clark somehow involved? Why does a student's suicide four years earlier seem to hold a key to identifying the murderer? While trying to help the sheriff solve the mystery, Ed finds his own life in danger!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Junco Press
• Release date: Aug 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393861881

Norm Karin

Norm Karin is an accomplished guitarist, lover of the outdoors, and baker of bread. He embarked on the path of mystery writing after a 35-year career as a biomedical researcher and science educator. He lives in East Amherst, New York, with his wife, Charlotte, with whom he often can be found hiking, canoeing, or birdwatching.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Mr. Ramsey, you’ve got to help!

Allie! What happened? My god, are you hurt?

No, but Dr. Palermo. I... I think he’s dead.

CHAPTER 1

"W ell, that was fecal."

This was Edwin Ramsey’s comment to his student jazz ensemble after they finished their rendition of Blue Bossa, and the young musicians greeted this comment mostly with embarrassed smirks because they knew this was about as caustic as their director got. He was not a physically imposing figure, with his slender, six-foot frame, sandy hair and close-cropped beard. And Ed’s easy smile made him well-liked by his students, and they enjoyed making him laugh.

The group was rehearsing in preparation for their fall recital performance that would take place in about six weeks. Ed is a music professor at Peterson College in central Texas, just outside of Austin. His main instrument is the guitar, and he directs this group because he is the only member of the small group of music faculty whose primary expertise is jazz. And that suits him fine because he has total control over the band and their repertoire.

What key was that tune in, Tim? Ed asked Tim Cook, who plays the saxophone.

E-flat, Mr. Ramsey.

Good. I was just checking because it didn’t sound like you were entirely sure. C Mac, I appreciate your enthusiasm but you should lay back during a keyboard solo. Try using some of those little three-note chords we’ve been working on. Keep it minimal.

C Mac is Christine MacNamara, a sophomore guitar student and the only female member of the group. It still is relatively rare for women to study jazz, especially on the guitar, so Ed pays a little extra attention to her to make sure she is progressing. He also knows that she appreciates being treated, in her own words, as one of the guys.

Got it, she said, scribbling a note on her sheet music.

Ed continued, That’ll also give more space for Joey to play. Joe Bernstein is the group’s bassist. All right, let’s slow things down and try ‘Moonlight in Vermont.’ Hey, whaddya know, Tim. This tune is also in E-flat, Ed said with a wink at his sax player.

Tim responded with a smile and a theatrical roll of his eyes.

Ed chuckled and said, Got an intro in mind, DeAngelo?

DeAngelo Martin is the group’s keyboard player and the only senior in the ensemble. He shuffled the sheet music on his stand and nodded to Ed.

Okay, count ‘em down, Jorge, Ed said, motioning to drummer Jorge Gonzalez.

The group did a much better job on this tune and Ed gave them his highest praise: Satisfactory, very satisfactory. They played a few more songs, getting Ed’s guidance as needed, and then the students went their separate ways for the day.

Ed recently turned forty-two and had been a faculty member at Peterson for almost fifteen years. He earned a master’s degree from the Berklee College of Music in Boston and, like most who enroll there, originally aimed for a career as a performing musician. But he grew up nearby in what is known as Texas Hill Country, and he jumped at the opportunity to return to the area and enter an academic career in this small institution. The school was founded in 1949 by Walter Peterson, who got into the Texas oil business in the early 1920s and managed to survive the boom-and-bust periods, including the Great Depression, to become very wealthy. Peterson and his wife had no children but were very philanthropic; education was a subject particularly dear to their hearts. Their dream for the college was to provide a source of outstanding teachers for Texas children, and the institution remains true to this legacy. Walter Peterson was especially proud of the fact that he constructed the original buildings on the campus from the same reddish granite that famously was used in the construction of the state capitol in Austin.

Over the years the music department at Peterson developed into one of the most respected programs in the college, and Ed loved that the music building was one of the original limestone and granite structures. Ed knew there would be political issues to deal with in a college department, but he still got regular opportunities to perform locally and gladly traded this life for the stresses of beating the bushes for gigs and constantly being on the road. And he thoroughly enjoyed interacting with students. He still kept in touch with several who graduated in previous years. Ed knew that he mostly was training future music teachers instead of performers, but he considered that a noble pursuit. His hope is that some of the students who become educators will help in the struggle to keep jazz music alive in the U.S.

Ed also is a foodie and loves that he can be in Austin within minutes and choose from among many good—and even great—restaurants. In addition, at the urging of a friend he learned to scuba dive about ten years ago. Texas offers a lot of dive opportunities, including short, cheap flights to the Caribbean. He now is an experienced diver with Dive Master certification.

On his way back to his room, the small teaching studio that doubles as his office, Ed stopped in to see the department secretary and grab a cup of coffee from the pot she kept filled for the faculty and staff.

Hey, Slow. Anything happening that I need to know about?

Slow is Shirley Weeks, a tall and attractive thirty-year-old. Based on her rather distinctive and eye-catching gait in the hallways, she secretly was given the nickname Slow Butt Shirley by one of the more mischievous male faculty members. Shirley found out about this and, rather than being offended and filing what probably would be a quite justifiable formal complaint, she actually was amused. She even occasionally signed her emails to Ed and a few  select faculty members as Slow. However, any notion that she fit the dumb blond stereotype instantly disappeared when someone needed her assistance, a situation that seemed to occur with some regularity in the department. She is amazingly fast and precise in everything she does and is unflappable when emergencies inevitably arise. She also knows exactly who to contact when any problems crop up that she cannot solve herself. Radar would be a more appropriate nickname.

Nothing today, Ed. A month into the semester and things are going smoothly. Knock on wood. Tony is his usual grumpy self, so all’s right with the world.

‘Tony’ is Dr. Antonio Palermo, the chair of the music department and widely respected for his musical prowess; but equally widely reviled for his arrogant, cold, and even cruel demeanor with students and colleagues. A female student of his even committed suicide several years ago. She left no note, but there was speculation that Antonio’s treatment of her prompted it. Shirley is the only staff member who dares to call him Tony to his face, and he knows better than to antagonize his Super Woman.

It was clear to most people in the department that Antonio was bitter at having to work in the middle of Texas at what he considers a backwater college. His main instrument is the oboe, and he tells anyone who will listen—and even those who would prefer not to—that he should be in a major symphony and teach at an elite institution in Los Angeles or New York City or Boston. However, he never bothers to explain how this great injustice has come about.

Sounds good, Shirley. Thanks for the java. Have a good one.

He walked out of the main office and was heading down the hall when he saw the unmistakable figure of Antonio Palermo coming toward him. Palermo walked with his head up and his chin and chest out, projecting an air of pompous authority. He had a leonine head of black hair that he kept combed back in the style of some classic orchestra conductors, most notably Leopold Stokowski. There was widespread speculation that black no longer was the natural color of his hair, but even Shirley couldn’t say for sure whether he dyed it. He wore his usual uniform of a white dress shirt and dark necktie.

Ed smiled and said, Good morning, Antonio.

Dr. Palermo just made eye contact, mumbled something that sounded like uh-huh, and continued on his way. Yup, thought Ed, salt of the earth. Of course, Ed was a ‘mere jazz guitarist,’ so he probably should be happy to have been acknowledged at all by the Maestro.  He went to his office, plugged his guitar into a small practice amplifier and started back to work on a solo arrangement. He had been playing quietly for several minutes when he noticed a familiar figure standing in his doorway.

Hi, Allie. Come on in. Waiting for your oboe lesson?

Allison Clark, a shy sophomore co-ed, had been studying with Antonio for over a year. She was slender but athletic looking at the same time. She wore her variation on the standard co-ed uniform of torn blue jeans and a slightly oversized hoodie with the Peterson College logo. Ed thought Allie would be quite attractive if she smiled more often. She played clarinet in high school and impressed the Peterson music faculty with her audition to enter the program. However, she now had set her mind on the oboe as her instrument. Apparently, this was always her goal, but there was no oboe teacher in the small high school she attended.

Hi, Mr. Ramsey. Yeah, waiting as always. Dr. P. is almost never on time.

Ed knew that all too well. Antonio seemed to relish keeping people waiting for him, including faculty members. Dr. Palermo maintained a separate office as department chair, but his teaching studio was next to Ed’s, so Ed often chatted with the oboe students while they lingered.

I just saw him in the hallway a few minutes ago, so I know he’s around. I’m sure he’ll be here shortly. Anyway, it gives me another chance to coerce you to pull out that clarinet and join the jazz ensemble. We could do some very cool New Orleans stuff.

Allie laughed—without smiling—and said, Thanks, but I’ve decided that oboe is for me. And I don’t have any urge to be a ‘jazz cat’. What’s that song you’re playing? It’s lovely.

Thanks, Allie. It’s one of my favorites, ‘When Sunny Gets Blue,’ and I wanted to freshen up the arrangement I made years ago. I have an older sister and when I was growing up she loved a singer named Johnny Mathis. This was one of his bigger hits. Do you have any siblings?

A change came over Allie and her face hardened slightly. No, I was an only child. She relaxed a little, actually smiled and said, But that meant I got all the attention. I see Dr. P. coming down the hall, so I’d better go. See you later.

♬♬♬

IT WAS FRIDAY AND ED went home to get ready for a dinner date. He wanted to make a good impression, so he wore a tweed sport jacket and even put on a necktie, a rather uncommon addition to his normal apparel. Ed had had a couple of informal lunches on campus with Dr. Tracey Reilly, but never an actual date. Tracey was a fairly new junior faculty member in the biology department who specialized in bird behavior and avian ecology. They met at a dean’s reception a few months ago and quickly became friends. She is petite with dark brown hair and very blue eyes. Ed guessed that these features might result from some Irish blood, if her last name is any indication. Unlike Allison Clark, Tracey smiled a lot and Ed found himself attracted to her right away. The plan was for her to come to Ed’s house and leave her car while they went out to dinner. Ed was taking her to Harry’s, an upscale restaurant in Austin that was one of his favorites.

Tracey had never been to Ed’s house, so he watched from the front door to make sure she found the right place. He waved as she pulled slowly down the street, and then she parked at the curb so he could get his car out of the driveway.

Hiya, Tracey. Come on in. Any trouble finding me?

No problem at all, she said, stepping through the front door into the living room.

She wore a dark pantsuit that Ed thought made her pretty eyes stand out even more.

Hey, this is a nice place. Did you tidy up just for me? I expected a messy bachelor pad.

No, I’m just a tidy guy in general.

That’s a pretty piano. You play that as well?

Just enough to get by. All the music faculty are expected to play piano, at least at a basic level. I mainly keep it for sentimental reasons. It was my wife’s, and she’s...gone.

Oh, Ed, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.

Ed laughed and said, It’s not like that. She didn’t die. I bought her that piano for her birthday one year. She started taking lessons, had an affair with her piano teacher and ran off with him. Best thing that ever happened to me. Actually, that’s not true. The best thing was that we had a son, Robby. You might run into him because he’s a junior at Peterson. He lives in a dorm, but we get together on most weekends. He’s a great kid. Smart and goofy at the same time. You’ll like him. He’ll probably take general biology from you guys at some point for his science requirement. He still needs to do that.

What’s his major?

Well, that’s kind of fluid at the moment. He loves poetry and started off as an English major, but reading puts him to sleep and he found it too hard to keep up.

Tracey laughed and said, That certainly would be a handicap.

Ed responded, What do you say we head out? I made a reservation at Harry’s in Austin. Ever been there?

No, but I’ve heard good things about it. And I’m starving. Ready whenever you are.

Ed escorted her to his car, an old Subaru Forester he purchased when it was new, and opened the door for her. He was practical when it came to cars and decided there was no reason to get rid of a car if it was still functional and trustworthy. And he was rather attached to it after all the years and miles.

While Ed was driving, Tracey said, As you saw, I’ve got a Soob too. What year is this? You keep it in great shape.

Thanks. It’s a 2003, and it’s got 165,000 miles on it. It’s showing its age in some ways and I should have the suspension checked. I could drive over a dime and probably tell you whether it’s heads or tails. But it’s still dependable, and I can fit a surprising amount of stuff in the back. That’s been very handy for gigs that require me to bring my own PA equipment. Or, heaven help me, if I need to give a lift to an upright bass player. Ed added with a grin, And, of course, old boxy-looking cars are babe magnets. Well, here we are.

Ed found a parking spot, and they went into the restaurant. They were shown to a table for two in a more private section. Ed had made a reservation because he expected that the place